


Shouldda Pushed Him Out the Door

by Zombie_ReiKitti



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, F/F, F/M, Fake Names, Gen, Hotchner gets kidnapped, I like torturing these characters, Maternal Prentiss, OFC doesn't have a name, OFC has a potty mouth, OFC is crack, OFC likes arguing with Morgan, Plot What Plot, Poor Hotchner, Possible Spoilers, Swearing, Wendigo, crack!fic, probably not porn, seriously she's crack!fic, this is probably the most serious crack I have ever done, wendigo torture, what if
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 04:45:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13380462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zombie_ReiKitti/pseuds/Zombie_ReiKitti
Summary: Aaron Hotchner was found bloody in a Wendigo nest. He was found by Hunters.(Or the what if prompt featuring Aaron Hotchner getting kidnapped by a Wendigo and then being found by Hunters)





	Shouldda Pushed Him Out the Door

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this little baby during a particularly angry time of my life so some of that anger is probably obvious in certain spots. I'd apologize, but I'm not all that sorry. Also was written when I should've been writing a 10-page research paper and that's probably where the crack!fic comes in, tbh. Also not sorry for that.  
> As to when this story takes place in the series, for the Criminal Minds 'verse, it's sometime after Haley's death and before Emily Prentiss leaves, and for the Supernatural 'verse, probably sometime after Sam and Dean are on the FBI's Most Wanted List.  
> Constructive Criticism is welcome, though if I get any flames, just be aware that those will be read with a sarcastic tone.  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing and I make no profit off of any of this. I'm just sitting in this sandbox and playing with the characters. (The Original Female Character though is mine, but that's it!)

**Hotchner POV:**

With the occupation of unit chief of the FBI's BAU, he knew that whenever someone was kidnapped while in the woods, the likelihood of any team (his or another's) finding him were low. The chances of being found slimmed when taking into consideration the decent size of these woods and the fact that he wasn't due to make contact with civilization for another couple of days. He had only wanted to take a camping trip with his son before they had to wait another year- like last year and the year before that. He wanted to give his son a happy memory to cherish. Especially since Haley had died.  _Jack's been withdrawn since then. He's so quiet these days. I just wanted a few days where it would be just him and me enjoying the scenery and enjoying camping where the noise of a nearby interstate wouldn't bother us._ Thinking about Jack reminded Aaron Hotchner about his current whereabouts. And if the people who had gotten him had gotten Jack.

Contrary to popular belief, Aaron had a pretty good memory. It wasn't anything like Reid's, but was anyone's? He remembered waking up in the dark of the tent, Jack curled up in his sleeping bag next to his own, and the urgent need to relieve himself. He remembered leaning down and whispering to Jack that he'd be right back, "need to see a tree about a horse" was along the lines of it. After leaving the tent and walking a short distance away (he could imagine that he could see the tent's outline in the dark), he chose a tree and relieved his bladder of its contents. He wanted to say that he remembered hearing a snap of a twig or a crunch of feet on leaves- he wanted to say that he remembered hearing  _anything_ before he was suddenly on the flat of his back with a searing pain blossoming across his chest. But there was nothing. One moment he was pulling up his sweats and the next he was down for the count.

He wanted to call out to Jack- to make sure his son was safe. But in doing so, it would alert whomever hurt him that there was someone else-- _a child_ \-- around. And that was the last thing Aaron wanted to do. Even if he was killed or taken, he'd make sure the UNSUB didn't know about Jack. So Aaron had gasped in pain but otherwise kept quiet. He didn't hear the UNSUB approach, but it didn't really matter. One moment he was on the ground struggling for breath and the next... well, it felt like he was being carried on someone's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He was sure he hadn't hit his head and therefore did not have a concussion, but he shouldn't have been losing bits and pieces of time like that. It was as if the UNSUB had simply moved faster than his brain could keep up with. And that was a terrifying thought. It meant that the UNSUB could have Jack and Aaron would be none the wiser. Except right then. Because he had thought of it.

There weren't many times when anyone could say that they had honest-to-goodness seen Aaron Hotchner pray, but if anyone had been around to see him, they'd have seen him doing just that. Praying to God that Jack, _his son_ ,  was still asleep in their shared tent and that he was okay. Aaron really prayed that his son wouldn't be found by this UNSUB. He had a gut feeling that this one would be particularly gruesome. In a smaller part of him, Aaron found that he hoped  _he_ got out of this situation okay. The FBI agent in him was telling him that it wasn't looking good. He prayed that his team found his son, safe and sound. He prayed that his team would find him. He prayed he wouldn't be too broken when he was found. After opening his eyes and squinting at the UNSUB, Aaron knew he didn't have a chance in hell of outrunning him especially with his newly acquired chest wound. Aaron didn't like the feeling of helplessness, but in this situation where the odds were _not_ in his favor, it was all-encompassing. He never wanted to feel this way again. But more than that, he didn't want _his son_ to _ever_ experience it. With that final thought raging through his veins, Aaron closed his eyes, prayed some more, and fell into unconsciousness.

 

* * *

 

It was dark when Aaron opened his eyes again. No longer was he being carried, but his feet were barely touching the ground. Moving his sore limbs, he found his arms were tied together above his head and the rest of him was sagging down with gravity. He felt like a torture victim in those sci-fi shows Garcia and Reid liked to watch.

He moved his feet till he was standing on his tippy toes rather than putting all of his weight and the force of gravity on his arms. He wasn't sure his arms hadn't been dislocated, but figured they'd hurt worse if they had been (or was it that they _wouldn't_   hurt?). Deciding to get a better look at his surroundings, he turned his head around. Much to his chagrin, it was too dark to get a reading and there wasn't enough light for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

_Ssssschhhhhhhllk  
_

That sent a shiver down Aaron's spine. In response to it, he stopped moving. After a few bated breaths and straining to hear something only to hear nothing, Aaron began squirming, trying to get out of his bounds.

_Sssssssssssssssschhhhhhhhhhhhhllk  
_

That had been closer than the last one. It still sent shivers down Aaron's spine. Again, Aaron stopped squirming. And again, after a minute or so, no other sound was made. After debating if moving around and attracting attention was worth it or not, Aaron began to squirm once more trying to get out of his bounds.

_Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssschhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhllk  
_

Once again, this had Aaron stopping what he was doing. It once again had him waiting with bated breath for something else to happen. But nothing ever did. This process went on. And on. And on. And on it went like a broken record skipping over the same scratched bit and playing the same snippet of music over and over and over and _over.  
_

After the fifteenth time of it happening, Aaron lost interest in keeping up with counting it. And with no way of telling how long he'd been bound and hanging, he was finding out that it was a weird way of keeping himself entertained throughout the hours he assumed he'd been missing.

After the thirty-fifth time of repeating the process, Aaron could swear he could see the far end of the wall... if he squinted. It was barely lit. Instead of continuing the cycle of wait a few minutes then squirm then hear that spine-chilling sound, Aaron found himself trying to see if the wall got any lighter. To his surprise, it did. This brought hope into Aaron's aching chest. Maybe it meant that his captor was coming for him- to do something, finally. He felt odd about the hopeful thought of doing something else at last. He didn't want to be tortured or murdered, but he felt like he was slowly losing his mind. It didn't help that his bladder needed to be relieved again. To his utter chagrin and relief (wasn't that an odd mix?), the light grew lighter until it dimly illuminated the cavern (there wasn't any other thing it could be) and no UNSUB came waltzing in. Taking his chance, Aaron twisted and squirmed in his bounds to no avail of loosening them. Instead, however, he did manage to turn himself around the cavern (it was too big to be considered a den). All too soon, he realized, he hadn't _really_   wanted to do that. Because with the sight came the smell that had always been there, but now it was blaringly obviously-in-your-face there.

A thin, petite, blonde woman was in much the same predicament as himself, only she looked much closer to death than he felt. In all the time spent in this place, Aaron hadn't been able to forget the searing pain in his chest or the way that the blood ( _his blood_ ) trickled down his stomach and soaked his shirt and sweats. Looking at the woman, though, put his wound on the back burner. She had a gash across her chest much like he imagined his own looked. Hers was older though. Her tattered shirt was crinkled with dried blood. She had a wound on one shoulder that looked like it was festering an infection while the other shoulder looked like something had taken a chunk out of it. Across her legs, various scrapes and cuts had scabbed over. Aaron tried not to think about it, but seeing the dried blood on her inner thighs had him cringing and praying the UNSUB had forgotten about him. The woman's shirt was long and tattered. It managed to still cover her breasts, but it wasn't quite long enough to cover her graying panties... which were also crinkled with dried blood... in all the right places for signs of rape. Pity swelled in Aaron's heart. Followed by fear. Since the UNSUB had taken him, did that mean the UNSUB didn't have a preference of women over men? Did it indicate that the UNSUB had taken Aaron to replace the woman? Especially since she looked so close to death. Would she be released before she died or would she be left here to be forgotten? More questions were entering Aaron's mind. The woman looked familiar to him, but he was sure he had never met her. While he was trying to figure it out, he watched her eyelids flicker open. Brown eyes glazed over with pain met his. So lost in seeing her pain, Aaron missed when the UNSUB waltzed in. Aaron missed the UNSUB trailing a clawed finger around the woman's body. Aaron missed the UNSUB's long, draught, pale face. Aaron missed the UNSUB's dark and sunken eyes. Aaron missed the way the UNSUB's eyes traced his every move. But Aaron did not miss the way the UNSUB used his fingernail to trace the woman's face, almost in a loving caress. Aaron did not miss the woman opening her mouth as if screaming silently. And Aaron did not miss when the UNSUB pulled the skin from her face. Aaron wished he had missed watching the UNSUB take her face and begin munching on it like it was jerky. He wished he had missed watching the UNSUB begin to gnaw on the exposed muscles while he- it?- tore apart the woman's abdominals. It tore open the skin like it was soft butter. It tore out the abdominal organs like a child unwrapped presents. And it bit into them like they were the most delicious chocolate birthday cake ever. Aaron wished his mind hadn't made those comparisons, especially when the UNSUB turned towards him with a look akin to a child realizing it still had one more present left to unwrap. Aaron swallowed hard and fought to not show his fear. If there was nothing else from the BAU that Aaron had learned, then Aaron had it etched into his mind that the number one thing you never showed your captor(s) was fear. He was holding onto that like a lifeline and praying it was what helped him to stay alive- at least until his team found him. Because looking into this UNSUB's face, Aaron was sure that at the end of his stay here, he would probably be wishing for death. Just like that woman had. Just like Aaron was sure countless others had before her.

The UNSUB leaned in close to Aaron's face, breathed in deeply, and... turned around and stalked to another part of the cavern. Not a scratch was made on Aaron and it utterly and completely bewildered him.

"No! Please! No! Stooooooooooooop!!! N-waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!!!" came the terrified screams from the direction of which the UNSUB stalked off to. The sounds of flesh being torn open and things squelching upon landing on the ground did nothing to ease the terror building within Aaron. He wanted to yell at the UNSUB and tell him to stop but his lips wouldn't move, his vocal chords were silent, and so, Aaron silently listened to the screams of the other people sharing the cavern with him.

Finally at long last, the UNSUB had had its fill and left them to do who knew what. The light had faded by that point leaving Aaron and his cavern-mates in darkness and terror. A short while later, the _sssssssschhhhhhhhhhllk_ noises started up again. Aaron hoped it would take longer than thirty-five of them before the UNSUB came back. He got his wish; the UNSUB came back around the hundred-and-forty-fourth one. ( _Why am I still keeping track?!_ ) It came back just as the beginnings of light were illuminating the cavern.

The same course of events happened again. And again. Aaron was sure he was going to go deaf from all the screams. It wasn't until the third time (after that first time) of the light coming that Aaron noticed the pile of bodies close to the cavern wall nearest him. The pile of dead, _mutilated_   bodies. Combined with the smell and the knowledge that he hung in his own bodily fluids, it really wasn't a surprise when he vomited- or more accurately, dry heaved.

It was that day the UNSUB decided to cut into Aaron's arms and legs. The cuts weren't deep, but it was enough of a message telling Aaron that soon... Soon it would be his turn to be nibbled upon. It was that day Aaron decided he would fake being dead and join the pile if only to escape when the darkness came again.

The UNSUB waited until the sixth time the light came to come back to Aaron only to find Aaron hanging limply by his bound hands and looking like death warmed over. The UNSUB, not seeming to care if Aaron was still alive or not, stalked his way to Aaron. It put its long fingernails on Aaron's shirt and ripped it to shreds. As if looking to appreciate its work, the UNSUB stared at Aaron's stomach for a moment. Jerking itself from its reverie, it placed its _surprisingly_ cold fingers on Aaron's skin before digging its fingernails in and dragging them from one hip to the other. Its head jerked back at Aaron's pained scream, but it began to make a clucking noise.

Somehow through his pained screams, Aaron heard the clucking and realized the UNSUB was laughing. It was laughing! Laughing because Aaron was not dead like it thought and therefore could still be nibbled upon and saved for later. Dread filled Aaron. His plan to fake his death had failed. Tears came unbidden. _Please God, please let my son be okay. Let him not be here. Let him be alive and safe. God, if I should die here, please watch over my son. Let him be cared for by my team, let him grow up hearing stories about the good times with me. I don't want him to know how I died! If I should die here, please don't let my son see my body! He doesn't need to see that- he doesn't need my dead body to tarnish his innocence—  
_

As if burned, the UNSUB drew away from Aaron. It turned its head towards the entryway of the cavern and waited. It made another cluck before stalking away and left Aaron and his cavern-mates alone. The cavern was quiet save for Aaron's ragged breathing and hitching gasps. Aaron suspected he was the only one left- the only one still alive. And soon, Aaron felt, soon the cavern would be devoid of life.

It was sometime after the light had faded that Aaron's bounds suddenly gave way and Aaron tumbled to the stone ground. Not thinking of escape anymore, Aaron slowly crawled his way over to the pile of bodies by the wall. If the UNSUB came back and saw him gone, it most likely wouldn't think Aaron had tried to hide himself as just another body. _Why does the UNSUB keep the bodies? It's been munching on everyone, why doesn't it continue to munch on us once we're dead? It'd have food for longer if it ate us after we're dead...  
_

Luckily for Aaron, though, the UNSUB never came back. Unluckily for Aaron, he no longer had the strength to escape. The tears came unbidden as he thought of his son, his team, his life. He thought about his life choices and what he would have changed if he had known this was how he was going to end up. He thought about what would have happened if he hadn't gone on the camping trip with Jack- would this have happened to some other camper? He knew the answer to that already. He looked around at the bodies next to him and knew that yes, it would have happened to someone else just like it already had multiple times. The tears were rolling down his cheeks in waves. He was gasping for air but the gasps kept sounding strangled- a weird gurgly sound. He sounded bad even to his own ears. He was glad no one was around to hear it. He never wanted anyone to hear him being so weak and so _broken.  
_

Fate, however, had other plans.

The sound of footfalls nearing him had him quieting. If it was the UNSUB, he _really_ didn't want to have it sneer at him for being so weak before ripping him apart even more. He even fought to lie still and appear more like a dead body. What Aaron didn't expect was hearing the footfalls (when had he been able to hear the UNSUB move?) break apart into two sets. He wanted to believe it was his team, but the steps were wrongly paced. One was confident and heavy whereas the other was more hesitant and light. No one on his team would walk into this cavern confidently- especially not after seeing the bodies. But had these newcomers seen the pile he was currently blending in with?

A loud clatter had him flinching and jarring his injuries. A muffled groan escaped him from it. _Definitely not my team. But who...?_ He shifted slightly to try to get a look at whoever was in the cavern, but he found it hurt too much.

"You okay?" came a male's voice. "Need any help getting up? That sounded like it hurt." He sounded worried for his companion. He most likely cared about his friend. But it wasn't a voice Aaron recognized. _Who was he and—  
_

"Nah, I'm okay. Thanks though." _A female? Why are they—_   "Found anyone alive?" Aaron blinked. _Was this couple looking for anybody in general or were they looking for someone specifically? What was with that question if they've found anyone alive? I'm sure they haven't looked this way, so why?  
_

"No. Just bodies." The male sighed. He didn't sound close to Aaron so Aaron had to wonder if there were other body piles in the cavern. He swallowed a strangled cry. _But if they're not with the UNSUB, will they be able to help me? Can I trust them?_   Thinking of his son, of seeing his son, Aaron made up his mind.

"H... h-help..." He sounded weak even to himself. He didn't know which he preferred: his team hearing that or strangers. He heard the female shuffle closer to him, but he was lingering at the doorway of unconsciousness. The female asked if he was okay, and had he been up for it, he would have sent her a glare. As it was, he let his gasps for air be answer enough.

He heard the two talk to each other, then he felt like he was being lifted up by someone big and strong. _The man most likely. If not, this is one strong woman._ The darkness that had been hedging around his vision began to splotch out spots of darkness. Unconsciousness was swooping down on him. Figuring he should at least alert his saviors of his name, he hoped they would alert his team to his whereabouts.

"My... n... name is... Aaron... H-hotch... ner." He gasped out, taking in a few needed gulps of air in between words. His vision was mostly blacked out by then, but he felt some of the man's muscles tense. If he had been able to see more clearly, Aaron was sure he would have seen the man's jaw tensely clench. Based on the man's reaction, Aaron hoped his saviors weren't friends with the UNSUB. Aaron hoped this couple would indeed help him, but he didn't find any reassurances from the man that he was being led to help or to his team.

By the time the female had come back to her companion, Aaron had fallen unconscious and was practically dead weight. The only sign shown that proved he was still among the living was the shallow and haggard breathing he continuously made.

 

* * *

 

**Main POV:**

Quietly, we moved forward deeper into the den. I had a pistol in one hand and a hunter's knife in the other (like how cops in crime shows hold their glocks and flashlights- only I had a knife instead of a flashlight). _One step at a time. Breathe in. Breathe out. One step at a time. Breathe in. Breathe out. Repeat and no one will die._ This wasn't my first time out hunting, but that didn't mean I ever found it easy. I always was a worrywart. That hadn't changed aft- _No! Focus! There'll be time later for that shit!  
_

"Psst!" It was quiet, like everything else in this place. "Pssssssst!"

I turned my head in the direction it came from. The big guy in front of me looked like he was turned my way. He had stopped, too. I slowed my pace as I neared him.

"We're going to have to split up. Dean's going that way-" he pointed to the left. I turned my head to look before realizing that I didn't have a flashlight to see anything but the dark. I quickly looked back at the big guy. "-and I'm going down this way." He pointed off to the right. "Which way are you going to go?" He asked me. I gave him a flatline look. I dunno if he saw it. He didn't say anything about it if he did.

"I'll follow you, Samsquatchers." I got the feeling he made a face at the nickname. It's not my fault his name's Sam and he's fricking tall. Six feet at the shortest.

I saw his head bob down a bit. I'm assuming that means he nodded and agreed that I'd follow him. He turned around, facing whatever direction we were going, and started walking. I had let him get a few steps ahead of me before I walked after him. _If he stopped unexpectedly, I'd at least have a bit of a heads up to stop, too.  
_

As we continued walking, I thought about starting up a conversation. I opened my mouth to say something then stopped. I blinked a few times. _Did I just hear..._ I tilted my head. My hand reached out and gripped Sam's shirt tail. His footsteps stopped. And it sounded like he stopped breathing. Least he knows how to be quiet. I closed my eyes and focused. Then I listened for what I thought I had heard. _...There! ... And again!  
_

"It sounds like... someone's gasping... or gurgling..." I whispered aloud. It was information that Sam needed to know. Sam gasped- or what sounded like a gasp, it could've just been him breathing deeply (it tended to sound the same).

"Which way?"

 _Which way, indeed. Keep breathing mystery person! It makes it easier for me to pinpoint your direction!_ I heard the gasping gurgling sound again. I waited to hear it once more (which I did) to figure out if we were heading in the right direction. The hand holding the knife left the weird cop stance it was in and pointed in the direction we were walking in, just to the left a smidgen.

"Got it. Let's go." He ordered. _Gasping or gurgling means alive. Someone's still alive down here! Gotta hurry before he or she bleeds out!_   I nodded my head, made a small "un!", and quickly followed after the big guy who was quite a few feet ahead of me now.

It was only after a short while when he gave me the signal to stop and let him go first. There was a slit in the rocks above my head that was allowing a little bit of light to stream through. I thought about staying in the light, but thought against it. Whatever was keeping these people down here would spot me quicker than Harry Potter spotting the snitch. I didn't want that. I stepped to the side into the shadows and waited for the signal that it was okay for me to follow.

I watched the spot where Sam disappeared. I had been standing there for awhile- might've been five minutes in actuality. His figure came back into view. _That's strange. I can sorta see it._ _There must be another slit in the rocky ceiling letting in more light._ _Not much light, but some. Ah! There's the Spock signal! Time to go join Samsquatchers._ I put one foot in front of the other, moving slowly and precisely. This was the way in which I didn't make noise. It got me into trouble whenever I wasn't on a hunt where it was needed. Some Hunters were more of the type to shoot first and ask questions later. I didn't like hunting with those types. _A chick can only take a gun or a knife to the face so many times before it gets old._ I entered the area Sam had and had to stop to let my eyes adjust. When they did, well, I realized I had entered a cavern-like area. Definitely smelled like it needed some deep cleaning carpet cleaner. If I had to venture a guess at what I was smelling, it'd be something along the lines of metallic, poop, and was that smell urine? _Gross! How long has anyone been down here?!_ I shuddered with the thought.

Sam was to the right side of the cavern. _The side with more light,_ I noticed. I looked to the more shadowed side and squinted. I didn't see anything moving. I brought my weapons up, just in case. I took a tentative step in that direction. I went to take another step, but my foot slipped.

There was a clatter- _so much for being quiet_ \- as I fell. The landing was hard... and wet. I slid my hands down towards where they were even with my chest. Somehow they had ended up landing above my head. _If Dean were here, I'm sure he would've made a weird ass bondage joke._ Groaning, I pushed myself up and looked down at whatever the hell I slipped on. Which didn't really turn out all that well, since one, it was dark as hell on this side of the cavern and two, it was dark as hell! So I did the next best thing at discovering things. That's right, I smelled the stuff. _Metallic. A weird tangy aftertaste. Probably blood. I'm hoping it's blood._ If it was someone's other bodily functions, then I was in desperate need of an outfit change.

"You okay?" _Oh no, did Samsquatch see that? Is he gonna crack a joke, too?_   My fears were for naught, though. "Need any help getting up? That sounded like it hurt." _He's sincere.  
_

"Nah, I'm okay. Thanks though." I told him. A thought occurred to me. "Found anyone alive?"

There was a pause. _Hesitation? Or-  
_

"No. Just bodies." That came out as a sigh. He sounded confused and frustrated. I didn't blame him. He was probably wondering what I was: _who was making those gasping gurgling noises?_ I took a few minutes to sit there and wonder about it. That gasping noise. It almost sounded like a wheeze- as if I wasn't able to get enough air into my lungs. I checked my breathing just to make sure it wasn't me. It wasn't. Although... when had I been able to remember noises with such clarity?

My eyes grew wide. I whipped around so fast my ponytail hit me in the face. Wiping my hair from my face, I quickly scanned the shadows. I didn't see much. But I could _hear._ I went out on a limb and followed the noises. (Probably not the brightest idea ever.) I didn't stand and walk around. Nope, I frigging crawled over. I don't know what I was crawling in, and I really hoped that if anyone could figure it out that they'd keep it to themselves ( _Dean_ ). I froze. My hand had just passed through something... Something that felt strangely like hair. My stomach lurched and I bit back bile. Slowly I looked over to whatever I touched.

First thing I noticed? It was highlighted. _There must be another slit in the ceiling._ Second thing I noticed? It didn't have a face. I bit back more bile. I also bit back a small scream. _Don't wanna alert Samsquatch to faceless to here. One of us shouldn't have to see it.  
_

I crawled past it. And crawled past a few others like it. Not all of them were missing faces though. _Kinda grateful for that. Seeing someone faceless is only so much fun the first time._ I knew I wasn't really focusing anymore, but give me some credit; I was crawling through who knew what to find the source of a noise that I wasn't sure was _human_.

"...h...hel...p..."

I froze. Again. That most _definitely_ hadn't come from me. And it most certainly hadn't sounded like Sam. Which left... either the creature or-

"There's a person over here!" I shouted in alarm. It might've been said at an inside voice, but I couldn't tell. It'd been quiet for too long.

I heard some lumbering footsteps heading my way. I was crawling forward towards the person. My hands found him or her before my eyes did. Sam had thought to turn on his flashlight. The light found the guy. _No boobs means it's most likely a dude.  
_

"Hey! Dude, you okay?" Not the most polite thing ever, but hey, I was just glad there was a human alive in here. All I got in response was some heavy, haggard breathing. I took it to mean he was still alive. I looked up at Sam. "He needs help."

"I'll carry him. You take the flashlight." I stood and took the offered flashlight. I left it on.

"I dropped my weapons somewhere. I'm gonna find 'em while you get him situated." I told Sam. I turned without waiting for a response. I turned the light to the ground and began the search for my lovely pistol and my dear knife. I took a step forward and nearly tripped again. I caught myself this time. I shone the light down to see what I had almost tripped on to see my pistol. That probably wouldn't have been a good thing to land on. _Hard to say the least. Shot and dead if I was lucky enough to miss out on the humiliating jokes that I'm sure Dean would've come up with._ I bent down to retrieve it. I checked the chamber to make sure nothing was out of order before putting the safety back on and stuffing it in the waistband of my jeans. There wasn't a lot of room for it to fit, but I wasn't planning on giving anyone a lap dance with it there. I looked around from that spot to try to spot my knife. It should've been shiny enough to reflect any light that hit it. _Bingo!_ It laid about fifteen steps to the left of where I'd found my gun. I flicked the light around that area to make sure I wasn't heading directly into any creatures. I wasn't. I jogged over to it, bent down, retrieved it, and quickly made my way back to Sam.

"Find everything?" He asked me once I got close enough. I nodded.

"Ready to go?" He nodded. He gestured for me to take point. He'd take rear. Instead of nodding, I just moved into the formation. I didn't walk super fast, but neither was it super slow. It kept me ahead of him and the injured guy, but it also let me keep an eye on them. This went on for what felt like half an hour. I only stopped when I reached a fork in the path. I turned my head towards Sam, "Hey Samsquatch, do you remember which way is out?"

He stopped right behind me. I could feel his breath on my neck. It gave me goosebumps. _I'll smack him when he's not carrying an injured person._ "That way." I looked at his out-stretched arm to see the direction he was indicating. I nodded my thanks and walked on. He didn't stay as far back as he had for the rest of the trip. _I guess he wants to get out and get the guy to a hospital as soon as possible.  
_

I smelled the fresh air before seeing it. _Isn't that how it always goes?_   I breathed in a nice deep breath of it. I could feel Sam watching me so I didn't take another deep breath like I had wanted. I moved out of the way so Sam could take a deep breath too, if he wanted. I had stepped to the side and stopped. I figured we'd wait for Dean here. Sam, however, had other plans. He shot me a glare and motioned for me to keep moving. _Back to the cars,_ I realized with a jolt. I felt my cheeks flush as I bent my head forward. I moved and quickly retook my position as point again. We walked in silence. In fact, the only noises made were those that our feet made when walking on the dry leaves and that of the injured guy's breathing. It sounded like it had become more haggard, if that was possible. I picked up the pace some. Sam kept up.

When the trees started to thin out, I looked back at Sam. He had a weird grim face going on. I didn't understand it; _The guy was still breathing (as anything close by could hear), so what was Sam's problem?_ I didn't get a chance to ask as the cars came into view then. Sam practically pushed his way past me at that point.

"Oi! You couldda asked me to move, ya know!" I shouted at him. He didn't answer me. _Jerk.  
_

I turned back towards the forest. I tried to see if Dean had made it out yet. He hadn't. I turned back towards Sam only to see him opening my car's door. He then proceeded to shove the injured guy onto the front seat. _Like shoving is really gonna help the poor guy live and get better. Even if Samsquatch doesn't like the guy or doesn't think he'll live, that doesn't mean that he can just shove an injured dude around! Didn't his daddy teach him to be careful with injured people?! If this is his monthly time of bitchiness, I'm gonna shoot him! That was rude to the poor injured dude!_   It was better to keep my thoughts to myself than to get into an argument about which manners were applicable to this situation.

"You're not taking him to the hospital?" I asked instead, surprise lightening my tone. Sam and Dean almost always took the injured to the hospital. It was like they got off on the whole hero aspect the doctors gave them for saving people.

Sam turned and glared at me. This wasn't like one of his withering puppy dog looks, either. This was a full on death _glare_   as if I had been found drinking a demon's blood. It brought me up short. I _really_ didn't understand where it was coming from. If I had to venture a guess, it was probably from when I tripped and gave away our position in the cavern. I hadn't thought Sam would be upset, much less _this_ upset over it. My face scrunched up in confusion.

"You're taking him and getting out of here." He ordered.

"Why?" I demanded.

We stared at each other. Sam not willing to tell me why, and I was refusing to move until he did. Needless to say, when Dean came running out of the trees, it pretty much startled the both of us. I had forgotten about him.

"We need to go! Now!" Dean shouted at us. I thought I saw him stumble and look at us, but when I flicked my eyes to him, he was opening his car door.

"What's goin' on?" I asked him.

"Ran into some feds. They thought I had kidnapped one of 'em." Dean explained. I paled. Feds. They're only fun to run into the first time. My feet were moving before my mind had caught up. I reached the driver's side of my car when Sam stopped me with his words.

"Dean, she's taking him to the hospital. Then she's going to lay low for a while." Sam was talking to Dean, not me. He didn't just get my attention either. Dean gave him a weird look, then looked at my car. No, not at my car, at my passenger. I looked at him too, but didn't see anything weird. I looked back at Dean. I found him looking at me. He nodded at me, then finished getting into the Impala. I looked at Sam, but he had already gotten into the car. I felt snubbed, but I followed their example and got into my own car. I hadn't even reached to close my door, when they peeled out of there. _If they went any faster, I'd believe bats outta Hell were on their asses,_ I huffed to myself.

I heard a quiet groan next to me. I looked over at him.

"Don't worry, darlin', I didn't forget 'bout ya." I told him. I was trying to be soothing. It probably wasn't working. I never did do soothing well.

I reached over him into the glove compartment for my keys. After finding them in that mess, I sat back in my seat, put them into the ignition, and turned on the car. For a moment, I just enjoyed the start-up hum of my '69 Chevy Camaro. It was black with green racing stripes down the hood. I had worked hard to earn enough to buy this sweetheart. I had taken up odd jobs to earn enough for the paint job, too. I had yet to think up a name for her, though. Thinking about names got me thinking about my Mildred (my pistol) which got me to pull her out from where she had been resting on my butt crack. I shoved her into the mess of the glove compartment before shutting that closed.

" _It's a black out blurp, but I'm sure it ruled_ "  blared out. I fished my phone out from my pocket and flipped it open. I'd gotten a text message. _"Closest hospital is ten miles south from where you are. Drop him off, don't linger. He's a fed"_ was all it said. Short, simple, and to the point. Typical Sam. Not that it really needed to be any longer to get my adrenaline pumping.

I looked over at the guy sitting in my front passenger seat. He was bloody- practically oozing the stuff. The only real distinguishing feature that I could really make out was his matted-down, slick-black hair. My eyes didn't linger there for long. My eyes travelled down to his dirty button down pajama shirt- it was ripped in some parts. Actually, it was more shreds of a shirt than an actual shirt. It was super bloody around his stomach, but my gaze had already moved downwards to his pants. They were in better shape than his shirt, but were still dirty. There was a tear down his right thigh that ended at the knee. His lower left pant leg had seen better days. If his pants— sweats— weren't black, the blood and whatnot would've been easier to see. I didn't let my thoughts linger on what had caused them to get so dirty. Nothing about the way he looked screamed fed. I almost wanted to push him out of my car if only to avoid the possibility of running into more feds. His squinted eyes were probably his saving grace from that fate. They were squinted so tightly I thought that maybe the veins around his eyes might pop out. It was rather terrifying to see. I thought about poking one to see what would happen, but thought better of it. _There might be time for that later... Definitely will be time for that if he dies- not that I want him to die!_   Even if he didn't look like a fed to me, if Sam was convinced he was a fed, then I had no choice but to believe him. Sam was the one who had tried to become a fed, after all.

I looked into my rearview mirror, expecting to see a ghost, but there was nothing. No cars were coming either, so I quickly tapped the gas pedal and pulled a U-turn. _Ten miles south from here? How much you wanna bet I'm gonna run into a cop for speeding?  
_

 

* * *

 

I hadn't gotten pulled over for speeding. Even though I zoomed past a lot of cop cars. I didn't see any cops in their cars when I passed them- well, not in the one that I passed by slowly shortly after starting my Camaro. They were probably all out looking for the guy I was driving to the hospital.

We made it to the hospital in record time. But I feared it wasn't fast enough. My heart lurched and twisted. I had taken too long admiring my Camaro and letting my mind wander while stalling to let Sam and Dean get as far away as possible before heading to the hospital. Sam had sent that text that told me to "just drop off and leave him" but I found that I couldn't. I needed to make sure that the guy was okay- that he'd live. _I guess this is my people-saving thing rearing its head._ I had been sitting in the ER's waiting room for the past four hours, just waiting for some news. I was praying the guy was okay and would make a recovery. But realistically, I knew that I was going to get the news that the guy hadn't made it past surgery. I'd find out that he had sustained too much blood loss and the gash on his stomach had been too severe for the doctors to save him. If it wasn't that, then it would be that he died from all the other cuts and scrapes and gouges that I was sure he had on his body- _people don't get that bloody just by bleeding out from a stomach wound! Although, he could have gotten that bloody from lying in that pile of dead bodies and blood I had found him in..._ Then it'd be up to me to find his remaining family (if he had any) and tell them the news (and an abridged version of what had happened to him). I didn't like having to do that. That was only fun the negative first time. I was _really_ hoping he lived. Even if it was just so that I wouldn't have to get so involved in a dead stranger's life. _Maybe it would have been better if I had pushed him out of my car and left him on the side of the road. Someone would've found him eventually... right?_ My worried mind was swirling with thoughts of what I should have done, if I had done the right thing, and if he was going to make it.

"Makok!"

My head jerked up. The nurse/doctor/whatever turned to look at me. "Makok?" She asked me. I nodded. I went to stand but the doctor put a hand on my shoulder stopping me from moving. I sat back down. She looked forlorn. My mind took it to mean nothing good. Tears were beginning to blur my vision.

"How bad?" I asked, looking up at the doctor. She hesitated, then sat next to me.

"Are you close to him?" She asked me. _Probably fishing for information to put on his death certificate.  
_

"N-n-no. I... I just found him... on the s-side of the r-r-road when I... When I stopped to t-take a d-d-dump." I stuttered out. The lie was easy enough to think of- I'd only always used it when asked how I found random bodies (that may or may not have been vampires). But the stuttering was new. I hadn't ever done that before. _Maybe it's cause the dude was a fed and you're panicking? Or maybe it's because you really do want him to live so you won't have his death on your conscience?_ I shuddered a few short breaths out before feeling the doctor's hand still on my shoulder. It was larger than I thought a woman's hand should be, but it was warm. Focusing on it helped to calm my swirling thoughts.

"On the side of the road? Like road kill?" The doctor had a weird way of asking that. I gave her a weird look, but nodded slowly. Road kill was certainly one way of thinking about the situation. He did resemble road kill a bit, didn't he?

"Do you know his name?" I shook my head no. I hadn't even thought of looking for his wallet or anything to ID him with. _How did Sam know he was a fed? He must have had some ID on him. Or it was Sam's fed-sense tingling._ The doctor drew my attention to her when she abruptly stood up.

"I have to alert the authorities about this." She took a few steps towards a phone before she stopped again. She half-turned back to me. "He's going to live. You got here just in time." She gave me a small smile then continued on her way.

The tears that had been threatening to fall throughout the entire conversation began to roll down my cheeks in waves. I was just so _glad_   that he didn't die- that he'd be okay- that he'd live. I was just so damn happy for the guy. I leaned forward in my seat and wept tears of joy.

I didn't notice when my body tilted to the side and sagged nor did I notice when my mind drifted off into sleep.

_-Dream/ Flashback-_

_"Just hang in there, darlin'. We're almost there." I kept telling him. Over and over again, I just kept saying those words. I was trying to soothe him, trying to not panic myself._

_After a few moments of silently driving, I had looked over at him again. Only I noticed what I had missed at first: his abdominal area (or was it his chest?) was oozing blood. With a gasp that escaped my lips, my right hand shot out and felt for the injury. It was across his belly, maybe a few inches above his belly button._

_The car lurched forward with a new burst of speed. My hand stayed on the- was it a cut or a gash-_ injury _putting pressure as much as I could as we sped onwards._

_"N....nnnggh....ghhhh"_

_"That's right, we're almost there. Just hang on." I told him. "Keep making noise so that I know you're still alive,' kay?"_

_I didn't think he heard me, or at least didn't understand what I was saying. Every so often I would get another groan of pain from the guy. It took another four minutes and a turn around a bend before the hospital came into view._

_"Look! There's the hospital!"_

_There wasn't a response. I looked over at him. He looked kinda pale under all that blood, dirt, and grime. My hand pressed down on his stomach again. There was a faint muffled cry that answered._

_Quickly turning into a parking space and even more quickly parking the car, I opened my door and nearly face-planted the ground as I tried to get out. Luckily, some guys were around (and saw me rushing). They hurried over to me, but I pushed them away. My arms and hands kept pointing to the guy in my passenger seat._

_"Go to him! He needs help! Please! You gotta help him! He's dyin'!"_

_I watched as they stopped trying to help me up and turned to see what I was pointing and screaming about. One guy paled. The other two jumped into action- yelling for a gurney, getting the injured guy onto the gurney, and wheeling him into the ER._

_The guy who had paled turned to me again. "Here, let's get you inside." He grabbed my forearm and pulled me up to my feet. Once I was steady, he released my arm. He hovered nearby in case I had trouble staying upright._

_"Thank you." It was the most sincere thing I had said in awhile. He smiled and nodded. He offered his arm, and not wanting to face-plant again, I wrapped my arm around his. I didn't put a lot of weight on it, but it was a sweet thought. We walked through the automatic sliding doors and managed to get into the waiting area when the gurney pushed through the swinging doors. I wanted to follow them, but the guy helping me led me to a chair that sat along a wall. The chair was one of those that had a pink cushion with wooden legs- pretty much a standard hospital chair. I felt myself sit on it. It wasn't all that comfortable._

_"Thank you," I told the guy again, this time for helping me walk. He once again nodded. He told me that I had to wait here for news on my friend. He asked me for my name so that when there was news, they'd know who to call out for. I told him a random name (one that Dean had picked out for me if I could make good on that bet I lost), but I wasn't too worried that I'd miss being called. There wasn't anyone else in the waiting room. He nodded and left me to my worry. I had put my head down between my knees. When that hadn't released me from the worries of whether or not I had made it here in time, I leaned back and rested my head against the wall._

_It wasn't until later that I realized the yelling had stopped when the nurses and gurney had passed through the swinging doors._

_The silence was even more terrifying._

_-End Dream/ Flashback-_

A choked gasp woke me up. It was followed by a few gasping pants. It took me a few minutes to realize I was the one gasping. I hadn't noticed that I had been so worried and panicky during that drive. Looking back, I noticed how white my knuckles were on the steering wheel, how fast my breathing was (I was more or less shallowly panting, it's a wonder I didn't pass out), how thin my usual plump lips had become. I had also noticed that I hadn't checked my mirrors as often as I should have. It was like I had forgotten how to drive safely. It was still amazing that no cop was around to pull me over.

"Ah... ahem."

That sounded like a weird cough. My mind shrugged it off as one of the desk nurses coughing.

"Uhm... excuse me, miss?"

My mind shrugged that off as someone else talking to the desk nurses.

"Excuse me, miss, but are you Ms. Makok?"

My mind almost shrugged that one off, too, but the name Makok sounded familiar. My eyelids fluttered open and shut a few times before slowly making their way upwards towards the voice that had asked that question. Whoever had asked, had asked in such a polite way. It was refreshing to hear after dealing with the gruff tonal qualities that made up so many Hunters.

At first, I saw beat-up black converse with the laces messily tied. Following the khaki pant legs upwards ( _were those pants ironed?_ ), I found a lilac plaid button down shirt peeking out from underneath a light beige sweater vest ( _those are still in fashion?_ ). My eyes stayed on the choices of beige sweater vest over lilac plaid for a couple of seconds. _Beige and lilac with khaki pants. Someone's going for a washed out color palette. Maybe they're trying to blend into the background... it's working._ Coming out of my thoughts, I finally brought my attention to the person's face. _Definitely a dude with that prominent Adam's Apple. Faint darkening hairs above the lips, possibly a try at a moustache. Narrow nose. Dark bags under the eyes, possibly sleep-deprived or a druggie. And that hair... is messy now, but looks like there might have been gel in it earlier. It was probably styled nicely this morning. Oh, he shifted to the left a bit and did I spy me some red in that hair? Does the rug match the carpet?_ My eyes flicked down to his groin then back up to his face. I realized I didn't have X-Ray vision to find the answer to that last thought. I did notice that he noticed where I had just looked, and oh my, did he look uncomfortable. I smiled to myself within the safe confines of my mind. Belatedly, I realized I had yet to answer his question.

"Oh... Uhm... Th-that's the name I g-g-gave the n-nurses to c-c-call out... But yes, uhm, I guess th-that's me." I rambled at him. The uncomfortable vibe didn't diminish, but he was giving off some amused vibes. I supposed I'd take what I could get. _Stutter wherever you came from, go away!  
_

"Do you mind telling me why you would give the nurses a fake name?" He asked, still polite. _His voice sounds so smooth almost like milk chocolate.  
_

"Uhm... Well... I... I lost a bet with a friend." I mumbled. My eyes had wandered to inspect the floor to the right of his shoes. _Was that a piece of lint or was that a penny?  
_

"A bet? What type of bet?" He sounded confused, like he didn't understand the concept of doing embarrassing things when losing a bet. My face scrunched up. It was flaming, too.

"The type where the next time you go to the hospital, yougottatellpeopleyournameisHoldenMakok." I rushed out. At least I hadn't stuttered throughout that. But if my face wasn't red before, it certainly was now.

He was silent. I chanced a quick look at him. He was blinking, slowly. I got to watch as it finally registered in his brain what I had said. Then I got to watch as what I had said _really_ clicked. Needless to say, I wasn't the only one blushing. He opened his mouth to say something, but it just came out as a spluttering mess. His mouth closed, and he sent me a weird look. I watched as he about-phased and walked back towards the desk nurses where there was a group of people in black slacks and black shoes.

 _If I didn't know better, I'd say those people are feds._ Realization dawned on me, then, that the injured guy I drove here was a fed, that these people were feds, that I just talked to a fed, that the feds were here, and that _why hadn't I gotten the hell outta dodge?!  
_

My face paled with the next thought; _I just told a converse wearing fed that I told the nurses my name was Holden Makok because I lost a bet!  
_

If I wasn't in shit before, there was no mistaking it now. Sam was going to _kill_ me when he found out I hadn't just dropped the guy off and gotten the hell outta there. _I am so screwed! I am so dead!  
_

 

* * *

 

**CM POV:**

Spencer Reid had drawn the short end of the stick. His luck was unbelievable! Since drawing the shortest straw of the group, he had the chance to interrogate the woman who brought in a John Doe to the ER. He was hoping the woman could answer his questions about whether or not she had brought in SSA Aaron Hotchner. That, of course, had been _before_ he saw her.

There was no possible way that _that_ woman had one, driven a car that wasn't stolen and two, helped anyone into a hospital. This theory was supported by the fact that the woman in question was absolutely _filthy_.  Her hair was up in a ponytail, but it was so matted with mud that it practically stuck to her neck and forehead in clumps. Her shirt was at least black so it hid some of the grime that no doubt was present. Her skinny jeans were soaking in mud- and hopefully it was _just_   mud. It looked like her jeans may have been a light pink at some point but were now a disgustingly brownish color. As if that wasn't bad enough, the stench in the ER was terrible. It smelled of blood, mud, urine, fecal matter, and if Spencer concentrated, he could detect an underlying smell of death. Most hospitals that Spencer had been in had at least also smelled of cleaners and antiseptics. Here? It was impossible to smell those familiar scents.

Facing his team members, Spencer's face scrunched up in displeasure. His team members grimaced along with him at the smell. He watched as they worked through the different smells- or just tried not to be sick. JJ and Prentiss looked like that was a losing battle.

"Well, Pretty Boy, hop to it. This stench isn't going anywhere, might as well get it over with." Morgan was being positive about it. Spencer made a face at the older agent. Morgan cracked a smile and made shooing motions with his hands.

"We'll be here at the nurses' desk waiting for you. Good luck," JJ told Spencer quietly. She didn't want to alert the woman to their presence just yet. Who knew, maybe Spencer could get more information out of her if she wasn't aware that she was talking to federal agents. It was a bit underhanded, but the team was worried and stressed about not being able to find Hotch. It had them all on edge.

Spencer sighed and turned back around to face the woman. He carefully schooled his face so none of his disgust would show. His feet began walking towards her before his mind really had time to prepare for the greater onslaught of scents. The closer he got to her, the worse the scents became. There was no question in his mind; these scents were all coming from this woman. When he was close enough to reach out to touch her shoulder (he inwardly shuddered at the thought and hoped he wouldn't need to), he stopped. Her head had been leaning to the side of the chair when he had begun walking over. He had watched her as she appeared to have awoken from a dream. She was panting, like she had just run a marathon. Now that he stood in front of her, he took notice of smaller things he had missed in his first peruse of her.

She had boots on. Black leather that laced up the front. There were zippers on the inner side of them- she didn't have to lace those up to get them on or off. _Lazy, but effective to quickly get somewhere. Leather means they might be more durable than other boots. No heels means she probably works somewhere where heels aren't ideal and/or practical._ The boots were covered in the same mud and substances that her jeans were. There was some blood drying on the tops of the boots. Following the mud, and trying to see if there was any blood anywhere else, Spencer's eyes traced up her calves to her knees. One knee was scuffed up and had a hole in the jeans. There was blood drying there too. _Most likely her own blood. She probably fell and scraped it up. Why didn't she get medical attention for it? Maybe she has mental problems..._ His eyes shot to the other knee to see if it had any blood. It did. _Blood on both knees? And on the tops of her boots... If there's blood on her hands, then it's possible that she has been crawling through blood._ He searched out her hands. When he found them, he noticed the blood almost immediately. It would've been hard to miss. Blood was on top of her hands, and it looked like it had mixed with some mud underneath her fingernails. _Definitely crawled through some blood recently. Also looks like she's been crawling through some mud. Muddy blood or bloody mud?_ His mind was going through several possibilities as what could have happened to her. He was starting to think that she had been kidnapped herself and had escaped. It would explain the blood and the mud that pretty much covered her from head to toe ( _if she had to fight her way out or- and this was a stretch- if her captors kept her in a place that was coated in blood and mud_ ). He went to open his mouth when her arms shifted. His mouth closed again and his lips formed a thin line. _There's... Is that a... It almost looks like a long blonde strand of hair on her forearm..._ Upon closer inspection, he found he couldn't tell if it was a hair from her head or from someone else's. With the thought of it being someone else's, his stomach lurched. He fought hard to contain the bile rising in his throat. The stench didn't help matters, either.

"Ah... ahem." _This is going to be hard. I don't want to breathe but I need to in order to ask her what she knows._ He waited for a response. When none came, he tried again.

"Ah, um, excuse me, miss?" _Might as well be polite. I suppose even smelly people like to be treated with respect._ Again, he received no answer. If he hadn't watched her wake up, he would have assumed she was still asleep. He decided to try to get her attention once again.

"Excuse me, miss, but are you Ms. Makok?" Spencer could hear Morgan chuckling about something behind him. He wanted so bad to go over to the nurses' desk to find out what joke he had missed out on, but the woman's head had jerked at that question.

Her head slowly lifted upwards. Spencer felt as though he were a specimen and she were the scientist inspecting him. He stifled the need to squirm. When her eyes had finally found his face, Spencer had the perfect opportunity to inspect her face (or as much of what was viewable through the grime). She had plump lips, but not quite as plump as Garcia's. There wasn't any lipstick on them either. _She must have wiped them off. If I look this way and squint, I think I can see where she wiped the grime off. There are streaks in the grime below her bottom lip that suggests she pushed the grime off to the left.  Maybe the tops of her hands were used to wipe it off. That would make more sense._ Her nose tip pointed upwards a tiny bit. It was of average length and size, just narrow. Spencer was sure that if someone painted a cat's nose onto her nose, it wouldn't look all that out of place. Her cheekbones were more prominent, or rather, her cheeks were just being sucked into her mouth. _An interesting habit or she's really malnourished. Why hasn't she been admitted into the hospital, yet?_ But it was her eyes that really grabbed his attention. The outside ends were slanted upwards, like one would expect to see on a cat woman or like the make-up usually done when implying an Egyptian woman. Her eyelids weren't covered in grime. But they were dark. _Make-up?_   The color of her irises were an interesting mix. Green was the predominant hue around the rim of the iris with golden tints around the pupil. Spencer wasn't sure he had ever seen anything like it before.

It was just for a moment, but their eyes met. He shifted his weight to his left foot at that moment. Her eyes flickered up to his hair and seemed to be entranced by it. Without any warning, her eyes flicked down to his pants before coming back up to rest on his face. Spencer blinked at her. _For a woman who's attention took awhile to get, she's quite attentive. But why did she look at my pants? I don't have any stains on them... Oh God, did she really just look at my crotch? Really?_ He was oddly flattered, but mostly uncomfortable. He hoped she hadn't noticed.

"Oh... Uhm... Th-that's the name I g-g-gave the n-nurses to c-c-call out... But yes, uhm, I guess th-that's me." She finally gave him an answer. _Just the name to call out? So it's not her actual name?_ Spencer's lips barely lifted up on the corners. If she could remember to give out fake names, maybe she would remember the John Doe's actual name.

"Do you mind telling me why you would give the nurses a fake name?" He asked, still being polite.

"Uhm... Well... I... I lost a bet with a friend." He almost hadn't heard it, it was so quiet. Her gaze left his face with that mumbled statement and fell to the floor off to the left somewhere (his left, her right). _Either she's lying or she's embarrassed.  
_

"A bet? What type of bet?" He pressed. He was losing faith in the hope that she had been kidnapped as well. It was infuriating him but was also causing his mind to come up with other theories for why she looked the way she did. His mind was nagging him about the stench too. _If she wasn't kidnapped, it's possible that... it's possible that she's the Unsub.  
_

"The type where the next time you go to the hospital, yougottatellpeopleyournameisHoldenMakok." She had rushed out that last bit. The tips of her ears were turning a nice shade of pink, though. Spencer took the time to slow down what she had said and replay it in his mind. _The type where the next time you go to the hospital, you got... ta... tell people your name is... Holden... Makok. You got to tell people your name is Holden Makok. Holden Makok. Holding Makok. Holding my cock. Oh, for the love of Pete!_ Spencer could feel his cheeks heat up. He had no idea of how to respond to that. He was certain that she was either making that up or it was the honest-to-goodness truth. It was one of those bizarre things that could go either way.

Spencer figured that if that was how this woman was going to be, then Morgan would be the better choice for her to talk to. Morgan wouldn't have any problems staying focused on what needed to be asked, either. Spencer quickly turned around to walk towards the nurses' desk. His cheeks, he was sure, were still red.

 

* * *

 

"The name she gave the nurses is fake. She says she lost a bet and that's what she had to do; tell the nurses that her name was... whatever it was that she said it was." Spencer reported to the team. He was hoping that his cheeks had dimmed some.

"Hey, your face is all red. You feeling okay, Spence?" Prentiss asked. She reached out a hand to feel his forehead, but he ducked below it. He shook his head at her. _Turns out my entire face is red now. Thanks woman for using that embarrassing fake name,_ Spencer thought, annoyed.

"Holden Makok. Could've been worse." Morgan piped up. He was still chuckling at it. Spencer shot him a glare.

"You got it right off the bat, didn't you?" Spencer spat out. He was embarrassed it had taken him so long to figure it out. He was still embarrassed that she had said it, not only to him but to the nurses, and then had the nurses say it out loud. _Narcissistic or confident that no one would notice it right off the bat._ Prentiss placed her hand on his shoulder.

"It took me awhile to figure it out." She told him. She was being sympathetic- she was being sincere. He nodded and accepted the comfort it gave him. _She still got the drop on me. Is it possible for a narcissist to help someone else out? Could she have set this entire thing up just to have that one moment of watching others say what she wanted them to say? Could someone that's so smelly and dirty really be capable of that?_ That last thought was an underestimation and he knew it.

"Morgan can go talk to her. I think you'll get more out of it than I will." He said quietly. He didn't want to alert her to the fact that she was sort of being interrogated without actually being interrogated. Morgan nodded and was about to walk over to her when he stopped. That got the team's attention.

Almost as one, the team all turned to look at the woman. What met their eyes had them on high-alert. The woman looked absolutely _terrified_.  What skin could be seen through the mud was now a nice pallid color. Her eyes were on the entirety of the team, and they were wide. Her mouth had fallen open. It looked like she had stopped breathing, as well. It lasted for a few seconds, however, as she took in a deep breath and let out a small whimper.

Spencer's mind went back to the theory that she herself had been kidnapped. _Maybe she was kidnapped. But instead of escaping, she was allowed out and forced to say that phrase as a code to someone else in the kidnapping deal. Or maybe she's just saying whatever she can to bring attention to herself to get the attention of the police. So many possibilities and not enough information or evidence._ Spencer's mind was on a whirlwind of trying to figure out what the woman's reaction to the group meant. He had figured out that while her eyes shone with recognition, she didn't actually recognize any one person. She had recognized them as a group. And that information had her scared.

Spencer decided to go back to her to try to calm her down. He took a step towards her, but stilled when she flinched. He looked to his team members to see what they were doing. Morgan was signaling to the nurses to get down on the floor- just in case this went south. Prentiss and JJ were quietly moving to the swinging doors that led further into the hospital. They were going to secure that exit. Rossi was slowly making his way to the front sliding doors that led to the outside. All of them had their hands on their glocks, waiting to know if they would need to use them. Spencer turned back to face the grime-covered woman. He would be in charge of leading this one. He swallowed his nervousness and raised his hands up in a surrender before taking another step towards the frightened woman.

Her eyes were wildly swiveling around. She glanced somewhere behind him, then off to the left, then off to the right, before finally landing on Spencer. He had managed to take two more steps before her gaze landed on him. He went to take another step, but stilled when she tensed. He heard Morgan start to move behind him. The woman responded to that by curling her upper lip. It appeared as though she was baring her teeth at them. Spencer saw Morgan enter his field of vision to his right. Past Morgan, Spencer saw Rossi reach the front doors. Her eyes flicked to Morgan, to Rossi, to the front doors, and back again. If anything, her terror grew more palpable. Morgan, at last, had the thought to stop moving towards her. He stopped moving in general when a growl was heard. With a jolt, Spencer (and the rest of the team) realized the growl had come from the woman. Spencer made to take another step towards her. In response, she tensed.

"We don't want to hurt you." Spencer told her, keeping his hands up in surrender. "But we need you to calm down. Can you do that for us?" He hoped she would. She didn't relax. But her gaze turned thoughtful. The team all watched as she considered Spencer's request.

Morgan took a small baby step forward, and the woman all but snarled at him. The team's reflexes were screaming at them that they were dealing with a predator and it needed to be dealt with immediately. But no one moved. Except Morgan, who had crouched down and placed his glock on the floor. He slowly stood back up with his own hands up in surrender.

"We don't want to hurt you, sweetheart. But we will if you don't calm down." That was Morgan's way of asking her to calm down. She looked at him with her teeth still bared, but her muscles had loosened. They were no longer tensed for an attack. Her eyes flicked back to Spencer, who nodded at her. She stared at the two of them for awhile. Both Spencer and Morgan stood still waiting for her to make up her mind. Both of them hoped she would calm down- they didn't want to shoot anyone inside a hospital.

She had them waiting for a good five minutes before she relaxed her mouth back into a straight line. Her gaze flicked down to the floor for a few moments before flicking back up to look at Spencer with some determination.

"Ya'll are feds?" The Southern drawl was so heavy in that one question that it made it difficult for Spencer to understand what was said.

"Yeah, that's right, sweetheart." Morgan had apparently understood what she had asked. He chanced taking a step forward. When she didn't respond to it, he crouched down, retrieved his glock, stood back up, and took another step towards her in one fell swoop. "We're with the BAU."

"BAU?" That was a question Spencer could understand. He nodded at her. _She's never heard of the BAU? How long has it been since she's been near civilization? That could explain why she hasn't requested first aid for that scraped knee... Or a shower.  
_

"Behavioral Analysis Unit. It's a division within the FBI." Spencer explained to her. He had gotten five steps closer to her with that explanation. She nodded her head, but her gaze had fallen to the floor again. It had lost the determination. In its wake was only scared resignation.

 _She's scared of us,_ Spencer realized. _Looks like her reaction earlier was due to not knowing what we were going to do. We'll need to be careful how we word our questions. We shouldn't make any sudden movements, either. This could still go south. If there was just something to offer her as a peace offering, we could help her.  
_

"We just want to ask you a few questions. We can do that here or we can go down to the station." Morgan had reached her. He looked like he was debating offering her a hand to help her up with or to dump her into a bath. She really did smell. The scent of fear only worsened the stench. "If you want, we can let you take a shower at the hotel we're staying in."

She looked up at that offer. She quickly nodded her head. "I'd like to shower." Spencer was glad for that. God only knew how much the nurses had been praying for it. _Looks like a shower is that peace offering. Let's hope it works out in our favor. We might be able to ask her about Hotch,_ he mused.

Morgan looked at Spencer who then signaled to the team that everything was okay. Prentiss and JJ came over to them to figure out who would be taking her to the hotel to get cleaned up and who would be staying to check in with John Doe.

 

* * *

 

**Main POV:**

A shower sounded so nice. My body would be clean. My hair would be clean. I would be able to wash my face. But mostly, I was looking forward to cleaning out some of the scrapes and cuts I had picked up during the hunt.

The two women feds came over to us shortly after I agreed to a shower. I shook off the idea that they had wanted to join in on the shower. _That only happens in porn,_ I reminded myself. When I was with Sam and Dean, the hotel we had been staying in only had XXX channels. No cable. Dean had been up driving all night, so he hit the sack pretty early after checking in. Sam and I stayed up flipping through the channels, only to realize our mistake after looping through them for the third time. _It was all porn._ Needless to say, we turned off the TV pretty quick. Sam started to get all awkward after that. _That kinda explains why he wasn't as chatty as normal on the ride to the forest. Actually, no, it was probably 'cause we caught Dean masturbating the next day to the stuff after getting back from researching at the library. It wasn't even noon, yet. While there are some sights that I would love to see, Dean masturbating wasn't one of them. Although I can mark 'seeing a dude masturbate' off of my bucket list now.  _I tilted my head to the side, not paying attention to the feds who were arguing about something. I was having fun listening to my own thoughts.

 _I thought it would be more erotic. But in all honesty, it was like waiting for some big explosion to happen. When it didn't happen, I was so put out. So much for a huge erotic experience. Anyway, I wonder if Sam and Dean have put it behind them. Maybe they're back to their prank war. The spoon in Sam's mouth was hilarious! I'm still waiting for one of them to get one of those fake tattoos of a kitten and apply it to the other's tramp stamp. The back of the neck would be funny, too- especially on Dean. OH! That's it! Next time I see them, I'm doing that. Dean! Watch out! Your neck will be my next victim!_ I couldn't stop the excited smirk from forming _.  Hopefully, the feds would chalk it up to excitement for a shower. Speaking of the feds, that one from earlier could be fun to prank. He looks like he'd be able to think of stuff to get back at me with. Oh God, I'm starting to think like I'm expecting to be around them for awhile. I should shower (especially if I don't have to pay for the hotel room to get one), then get outta here. Although... if any of them let me borrow some clothes before I leave, that'd be more awesome._

A hand waved in front of my face, bringing me back from my thoughts. I blinked at it a few times. Looking past the hand, the fed's face from earlier popped into view. By his exasperated expression, he had been trying to get my attention for awhile. I blinked again. And again. And again. And once more just to see if his face would turn purple. It didn't. _So sad._  

"Yeah? What do ya need?" My Southern drawl was still hanging out. I could use it to my advantage later if I- no, when I left. They would be searching for a young woman with a Southern accent and I would slip under their radar by using another accent. It was always good to have a back-up plan.

"This is SSA Emily Prentiss," the beige-and-lilac fed pointed to the black haired woman to his left. I really needed to find out his name. It wasn't polite to call people by what they were wearing. "You'll be taking a shower in her hotel room. She's going to be one of us to escort you over there. And-"

"One of ya'll?" I interrupted. Did feds really escort people? I had always thought that was just one of Hollywood's fantasies.

"Yes, one of us. You are a vital witness in our current investigation. We can't have you disappear on us, so some of us will be with you at all times." An older guy stated. He had black hair with some gray hairs tucked in there too. His cheeks sagged down like they couldn't fight against gravity anymore. _I hope my cheeks look awesome when gravity wins that fight. I already figure my boobs would get all saggy and gross looking by then. I give my boobs fifty more years to be perky-tastic._ His skin tone was of a golden tan variety. _Probably Hispanic._ I didn't want to spend awhile looking at him- I tried to avoid looking at old people for long periods of time. Too saggy, too wrinkly, too _old_ to try to make them uncomfortable with looks.

"Ya one of 'em escortin' me aroun'?" I asked him. I didn't like the not-so-subtle implication that I'd disappear on them. Just because I was planning on doing it doesn't mean I liked to bring attention to it. _Gotta get 'em to trust me some before I can just slip away. Dammit! I really shouldda pushed that damn fed outta my car when I had the chance! 'Least then I wouldn't be in this fucking situation._ My face scrunched up in displeasure. "I'd rather have a cute young'un escortin' me, ya catch mah drift?"

That one earned me a chuckle from the old guy. It shouldn't surprise me that the feds can understand my accent. They've probably run into several cases that have led them down south. The rest of them either had amused expressions or the 'can we please move on' expressions. I sent a smile at them. The 'annoy the feds until they leave you alone' plan sounded really good right then.

"Ahem." That drew my attention back to beige-and-lilac fed. "As I was saying, this is SSA Derek Morgan. He'll be the other agent to escort you." He gestured towards the big black guy. My eyes languidly fell down his figure. I debated whether or not I should peruse him like I had beige-and-lilac fed. In the end, my eyes followed his clothes' folds and curves back up to his face, just as languidly as before.

"Hello hot stuff," I purred. I added a flirty smirk just for that extra spark. When beige-and-lilac fed's voice had been like chocolate earlier, that was nothing in comparison to this guy's skin color. He was made out of chocolate. And I wanted a bite. With that smirk on my face, I probably looked demented. Especially since I was still covered in icky grime, I hoped I hadn't scarred anyone too badly.

Chocolate fed chuckled. That sounded delicious, too. If I had been a vamp, he wouldn't have stood a chance.

"Hello to you, too. Let's go get you cleaned up, sweetheart." His voice could even be described as chocolate. _Which is why you calmed the fuck right down earlier. Plus he called you sweetheart. Who wouldn't calm down after that? Speaking of sweetheart... How am I gonna explain I have a car when I look like this nasty mess?_ I had hesitated at that. _How was I gonna explain that? She was registered to me, yeah, but she was registered under my actual name. Didn't I have a warrant out for something? Trespassing?  _This wasn't going to bode well for me.

"What's wrong?" The black-haired fed, Emily Prentiss, asked me. She saw me hesitate. I swallowed.

"How... uh... How are we gonna get to ya'll's hotel?" Somehow managing to not stutter, I asked and _prayed_ they said the hotel was within walking distance.

"We're driving." Chocolate fed, Derek Morgan, replied. He squinted at me. "You're not afraid of cars, are you?"

I shook my head no. Deciding to just ride in their car, I started walking towards the front doors of the ER. I don't know why they hesitated, but it took them a few seconds before following me out of the hospital. Once outside, I tried my damnedest to not bring attention to my car. It wasn't to any avail, however.

"Woah! Prentiss, do you see that?" Morgan asked once he had looked around the parking lot. Prentiss didn't look like she cared. "Do you see that car?" He was now pointing at my sweetheart. "It's a 1969 Chevy Camaro!"

"It's just a car," was Prentiss' answer. I turned around to look at her, unimpressed. She noticed me. "He's obsessed with cars. Once he's had his fill of it, we'll be on our way." She told me. _She thinks I'm unimpressed with Chocolate fed,_ I realized. I didn't correct her. I didn't want to bring attention to the fact that the Camaro was mine. I turned around to watch Morgan. He was currently lightly tracing the hood, up the windshield, and down the body. He was treating her with such respect that my own respect for the fed grew. When he was just about to return to us, something caught his eye.

"Rossi. Come here for a sec," Morgan called out. Whatever he saw had his admiring eyes turning hard. Rossi answered the call and lazily walked over to Morgan. Rossi (who turned out to be the old guy) reached Morgan and peered down at whatever Morgan was pointing at.

"What do ya think that's 'bout?" I asked Prentiss. My head turned around towards her to see her answer. She shrugged. She was now leaning against a large black SUV. It was a typical black government SUV that you see in cop shows. _Guess Hollywood bases some things off of real life, after all._ My head turned back towards Morgan just in time to see him whispering to Rossi. _Guess it's not something I'm gonna find out tonight. What time is it anyway?_ Tilting my head back, the sky was... cloudy. _Can't even tell where the sun is. I'm gonna assume it's daytime now, considering I brought that fed in when it was still dark. And also considering that if it was nighttime, I wouldn't be able to tell if the sky was cloudy or just starless. How long was I in there waitin' for?_ Tilting my head to the side, I peered at the hospital hoping it would tell me. I was disappointed when it stayed silent.

Hearing some heavy footfalls approaching me, I turned to see who it was. Just Morgan. His eyes were watching me, calculating. He looked past me and nodded.

"Alright kiddo, looks like it's time to go get that shower," Prentiss said. Turning around again, I watched her push off the SUV, turn towards the door, and open it. "Your carriage awaits."

Nodding, I walked over and slowly climbed in. It was higher off the ground than I thought it would be. Being only five feet four inches tall, I had to jump a tad bit to reach the seat. After getting settled on the seat, I pulled the door shut. I got to watch Prentiss turn to open her own door only to get stopped by Morgan. He leaned towards her ear. His lips were moving, but I couldn't hear anything. I tried to read his lips, but I had never developed that talent. I was wishing I had now.

Growing tired of watching them whisper back and forth, I turned my worries inward. _What did Morgan see that's so alarming? It's just my car. Did some of the paint chip off? Is he trying to get a fund started to redo the paint job? I don't think anyone else is going to go for it. It's not like it's his car. I really should name her. Maybe Zoe? Or Lilac? Ha! Lilac reminds me of beige-and-lilac fed. What was his name? I don't think I learned it. Damn. Beige-and-lilac fed he shall remain. What was it about my car that got Morgan's attention? And why did his eyes look so hard? I haven't done anything yet to really warrant that reaction... Excluding the whole growling bit earlier. But seriously, he shouldn't blame me for that. I was panicking! He'd panic too if he just realized his Hunting buddy would kill him when finding out he didn't just drop off the fed and get outta dodge!  
_

Peering out of the window again, Morgan and Prentiss were still at it. Rossi had joined in too. _Weren't you supposed to not leave people in a car unattended? Maybe I should open the door and tell them that.  
_

Morgan's arms were gesturing wild things. So was Prentiss'. Oh, beige-and-lilac fed had joined the party _._ How nice. _I just gave my sweetheart a carwash yesterday. This hunt didn't even require any off-roading. There's no way that she's dirty. So Morgan can't be upset about that. Wait... Did I shut my door when I got here? Did anyone shut that door?_ I paused, trying to remember. I hadn't. I paled.  _Morgan had just gone around to the driver's side when he stopped. He was going to walk around it for that full viewing effect when he stopped right by the driver's door. Oh shit. OhshitOhshitOhshitOhshit! OH FUCKING SHIT! Morgan saw the muddy mess on the driver seat! Did he bend down and see the passenger's seat? OH Fucking Shit! Screw worrying about a trespassing warrant, I'm past being screwed! They're gonna know I lied about finding the injured fed on the side of the road! FUCK!!  
_

Before I had the chance to even think about escaping the SUV, the driver's and front passenger's doors opened. The feds climbed in and shut their doors. Instead of just having two feds drive me, a third one opened the door across from me and climbed in. Quickly glancing into the rear view mirror, I schooled my features into a calm nonchalant facade. I prayed no one had seen my panicked expression. As far as I could tell, no one had. Not wanting to give away my nerves, I shifted in my seat to peer around the back of the driver's seat to see who was driving. It was Morgan.

"Do ya drive crazy?" I had been going for something casual, but well... things don't always go as planned. _I really should have just dropped that fed off and left. I really shouldn't have waited around for news if he would live or not. I'm sure the newspapers wouldda mentioned it if he died.  
_

For that question, I got three pairs of eyes to look at me. No one said anything. The only thing I got in response was the sound of hands gripping the steering wheel tighter. The engine roared to life. Morgan backed the car out of its parking space, got us out of the parking lot, and onto a road. I assumed we were heading towards that promised shower, but realistically, I knew we were going to the station. Realistically, I was going to a jail cell. For the rest of the ride, I didn't say a word. It didn't matter; no one said anything either.

 

* * *

 

A hand was shaking my shoulder. Flinching away from it, my eyes opened to gaze directly into Morgan's. It was still hard and calculating. I tried to not think about why it was that way. Sliding back over to the door (I had flinched away from it and towards the middle seat), I waited for Morgan to move so that I could slide out. He stepped back a few steps. My feet were brought around so that when I slid out, I'd land on them instead of my face, like what had happened when I arrived at the ER last night. Sliding out of the car was always more fun than climbing in. This time, it was hard to enjoy it with a federal agent not two steps away. It reminded me of a hovering mother hen. _Annoying.  
_

Beige-and-lilac fed came around behind me, put his hands on my shoulders, and started to steer me towards a red-brown door with the number 4 on it. The door looked more like a hotel room's door than a station's door, but I kept it to myself. If the local police station wanted their doors to look like a hotel's, who was I to judge?

Morgan slammed the car door shut behind us. My head whipped around at the sound. His gaze hardened even further. Squeaking, I faced forward again. I didn't want to be under that angry gaze any longer than necessary. But I wasn't prepared for what I saw ahead of me. My feet stopped moving and the fed behind me bumped into me. His hands never left my shoulders. _I need to start paying attention to my surroundings._ If I had been, I wouldn't have been as surprised and confused as I was.

"It's... a bathroom..." I couldn't believe it. They had kept their promise of getting me a shower. But... why?

"We said you could have a shower." Beige-and-lilac answered softly. I stared.

"But... why?"

"We weren't lying to you when we said you could have one." It was said carefully, almost as though they thought the words themselves would throw me into a panic.

" _Why?_ " I stressed again. My mind wasn't wrapping around the concept that feds could do something nice just because they had promised it. How many feds had I run into that had promised things only to break them moments later? _Too_ many. I learned not to trust feds- to take them at face value only. _But if that was true, why had I not only helped that injured fed but also stayed around waiting for news of his well-being?  
_

"Because you stink." It was blunt. "And you made a mess in the car." Ah, there was the punch line. The bluntness of the statements was familiar territory for my mind. I trusted that more than them saying they were keeping promises.

My face heated up. My eyes dropped to the floor. "Sorry," I mumbled. Not wanting to stand there in embarrassment until a formal dismiss, I walked into the bathroom and shut the door. I wasn't lucky enough to get a locking door.

Hoping none of them were perverts and would be a peeping tom, I tore off my shirt. The blood had soaked through to my bra. No longer was it a flirty pink and yellow striped thing. Now it matched my jeans. Disgusting. It came off just as quickly as the shirt had. Bending over, I unzipped both of my boots. I stepped out of them and onto the cold tiled floor. My feet quickly found the bath rug to stand on. My socks were at least still white. The only thing on me to have stayed the same color they had started the day out as. Unbuttoning my jeans proved to be difficult. I couldn't get a good grip on them. Either my hands were too muddy already or... I looked at my hands. They were rather filthy themselves. It's amazing I managed to unzip my boots. Staring at my hands, I debated whether washing my hands first would help matters. Realizing that there was only one clean towel left and that I wanted to use it after I was completely clean, there was no way I was going to be able to wash my hands and unbutton my pants with wet hands.

Sighing, I walked over to the bathroom door. I opened it a sliver. Right outside of it was beige-and-lilac fed. Letting out another squeak, I quickly shut the door again. I waited to get scolded for... something, but nothing of the sort came. Swallowing my embarrassment and nervousness, I opened the door to a sliver again.

"Uhm... I need..." He hadn't heard me. I was being too quiet. Swallowing again, I tried again. "I need some help."

He jerked forward before turning around to look at me. His eyes flicked down from my face to see... nothing but bathroom tile underneath it. I had the decency to keep my naked half behind the door and only show my face through the sliver opening.

"What do you need help with?" He asked me. I didn't want to tell him. It was embarrassing enough to just think about. Plus he was a dude. We weren't even remotely intimate enough for it to not get awkward. (Not that we were ever getting to that point!)

"I just... uhm.... Please just send in Ms. Prentiss." I said instead. It still came out quietly. I just made myself sound like a timid little school girl. Dammit. I refused to meet his eyes. Double dammit.

"Emily. She wants your help with... something." He said into the bedroom. I heard a bed creaking and some soft footfalls before beige-and-lilac fed moved out of the way of the door. Prentiss came into my field of vision.

"If you wouldn't mind helping me with something personal, I'd really appreciate it." I told her. I was _not_ about to announce to the whole room that I couldn't unbutton my own damned pants. I had enough awkward vibes coming from myself already. She nodded. I opened the door wider to let her in.

First thing about her that I noticed was that her gun holster was empty. That subtle implication winded me. I really wanted my shower! I wasn't going to try anything now that would jeopardize that! Plus I wasn't planning on jumping her in here- or anywhere, really. My fists clenched.

"What do you need help with, kiddo?" I felt her gaze on me, but I didn't raise mine to meet hers.

"I can't unbutton my pants."

"Oh. Because your hands are filthy?"

"Yeah."

She came over. Her hands reached out. When the back of one hand brushed my stomach, I couldn't stop the flinch. Even though I had watched her hands the entire time, I couldn't repress that reflex. Her hands had stilled. Taking a deep breath, I took a small step towards her. I nodded at her to continue. This time she managed to unbutton my pants without touching me once.

"Thanks." Her hands were still in my view.

"Do you want to talk about-" She started. Her voice was soft and soothing.

"Thanks for the help. I'm okay on my own now." But I didn't want to talk about it. She stared at me for a few minutes. I shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.

"I'll be right outside if you need anything else." Her hands disappeared from my view. Her footfalls sounded loud against the sudden quiet that had fallen around us. The door creaked open, then creakily shut.

I stayed standing there for another minute before shaking myself out of the reprieve I had entered. I hadn't thought of those memories for a long time, and if I had anything to do about it, I wouldn't think of them anytime soon. Still embarrassed about the request and now about the flinch, I quickly peeled off my jeans. I went to take off my panties, but noticed that they had come off with my jeans. Crouching down, I gazed at them. There was red blood on the inside lining.

 _As if my day couldn't get any better._ I stood and walked to the shower. Turning the knobs to heat, I gingerly climbed into the tub. Sitting down, I relished in just letting the hot water flow over me and wash away the grime of the day. _My period picks today, of course, to start. Fuck my life.  
_

 

* * *

 

It felt like I had spent an eternity scrubbing myself clean. Parts of my skin were red from how vigorously the scrubbing had become. Other parts of my skin were red because of irritated injuries, like my knee. It hadn't looked so bad when I first looked at it in the ER's waiting room, but now, I wished I had gotten a nurse to patch it up. _If I get a call from the hospital when the injured fed wakes up, I'll ask one of them to look at it then. Speaking of my phone, did I leave it in my car?_ It was going to be tricky getting to it without alerting any of my escorts.

I wrapped the last clean, white, fluffy towel around my torso and started patting down my arms to dry them first. Next to be pat-dried was my neck and chest. It wasn't as difficult as men thought it was. My boobs weren't super big- definitely not DD by any standard. But they weren't as small as AA, either. They were a happy medium of being B-cups. Although I found that it depended on the type of bra and shirt combination that really made them stand out as B-cups.

My hands paused in finishing drying off the rest of my torso when I noticed that I had just spent the last couple of minutes thinking about my boobs. _Am I being... vain?  
_

Shrugging, I bent over to dry off my legs. My lovely, sort of tanned, and rather hairy legs. I wished I had thought of to ask for a razor before taking the shower. My armpits were hairy, too. Thinking back at how Morgan had seemed on edge (his hard eyes were a clue), I figured he wouldn't have given me any razors even if I had asked nicely. In fact, all of the feds outside the bathroom most likely wouldn't have. _The BAU. Behavioral Analysis Unit. They would probably think I was asking for a razor so that I could slice and dice open my arms before giving them any information._ My left hand clenched the towel while my right hand fluttered down to my hips where scars upon scars lay upon my skin. _Not like I really need a razor to break skin, though._ Enticingly, my fingernails traced along a few of the longer scars. I hadn't cut or scratched in awhile. Hell, I hadn't _thought_ of cutting in awhile- not since the last time left me strapped down to a hospital bed.

Shaking myself out of the weird trance, I snatched the towel in both hands and started to roughly dry my hair. _Why am I thinking 'bout these things again?_ Only, I knew why. It was because of that flinch when Prentiss had been trying to help me. It was the feeling of beige-and-lilac fed's hands on my shoulders. It was the loud noise of Morgan slamming the car door. But mostly, it was the fact that the nurses in the waiting room had kept glancing at me then whispering, like I wasn't around to notice. Their pitying glances told me that they thought they knew what had happened. Their whispers told me that they were confirming their theories with each other. The worst one of them was the guy who had helped me walk in. He never participated in the whispering gossip of his coworkers, but his eyes never left me. His gaze held the knowledge that he _knew_ how I had been treated in the past. The vibes he let off spoke of his intentions; he wanted in on it.

I hadn't wanted to show weakness. He seemed the type to get off on it. Instead, I had stayed sitting in the waiting room, enduring everyone's eyes, while simultaneously convincing myself that I had stayed to make sure the fed had lived to satisfy my people-saving-thing. Truth was, I never cared whether a victim of a Hunt lived or died. It was just me trying to not think of what was really bothering me- of trying not to remember that I had at one point in my miserable life wanted people to actually dominate me. _Oh there I go, thinking about it again. But while we're on the subject of being honest, if I see that male nurse again, he better hope to stay within the feds' eyesights. If I end up in a room where it's just the two of us, he's not gonna walk out of it. If he does, I hope it's because I died so that I can haunt his pathetic steps for the rest of his miserable life.  
_

My hair hung around my face messily. At least it was dry. I wasn't too sure if it was completely clean yet. As far as I saw, it was still the rich chestnut auburn I had dyed it. Moving so that I was in front of the mirror, I saw that it indeed was still the color it was supposed to be. Leaning in closer, I noticed that my roots were showing. Leaning back and twisting every which way, I decided they weren't noticeable enough yet to have a touch-up done. In another week or two, however, I would need to. Naturally my hair was an ash brown color. It had been three years since I'd let it be that color. As much as I enjoyed my natural color, I far more enjoyed this new color. No one from my early Hunting years had recognized me (which had been the point). Though it did say something about Hunters' ability to remember faces.

Remembering to when Prentiss had been in here with me, I was grateful that even in that embarrassed state my back had been facing the tub rather than the mirror. It was bad enough that she got to see me flinch- it would've been worse if she had gotten to see my back. Who knew what she would've thought once seeing it. Twisting around so that the mirror reflected my back, my eyes traced down the massive black dragon tattoo. It wasn't one of those girly dragons; it was a tribal based design with the dragon being of Chinese origins. Long flowing body, four legs, wolf-like face, and no wings. Some parts of it looked like it was flaming and giving off purple smoke (there weren't any hard lines on these parts), while other parts had the traditional pointy and hard edges of tribal tattoos. I remembered the day I had gone in to get it done. I had wanted a realistic black dragon that had purple highlights. The feet were what I had been really looking forward to. They were going to be tiger feet (but all black to match the dragon body). But when I had asked for the price after explaining everything to the tattoo artist, I learned I was short by $500. The chick who was going to tattoo it wanted me to wait until I had gotten the money, but I was impatient. Instead of waiting, I had kept the original concept of it and gotten it done with the easier (and cheaper) tribal design. The tattoo chick was at least nice enough to incorporate the tiger feet into the design. I didn't think it would fit with the simple design, but looking at it now, she did a fantastic job. If someone didn't know about the tiger feet, they wouldn't notice that they weren't dragon feet. I didn't think I would love the simpler design, but thankfully I was proven wrong. I loved every inch of it. I loved the way the dragon covered most of the scars on my back. And I especially loved the way the still visible jagged crisscrossed scars looked like they were a part of the dragon scene. It ended up looking like the dragon and its flaming parts were climbing up through different types of lightning. It was one of the most excruciating experiences I had undergone in "one sitting", but it was so worth it. The tattoo chick had wanted to do it in sessions, but I was only in that town for a few days so I told her to do it in one. She complied, eventually. Like I said, it was excruciating, but it hadn't lasted as long as I thought it would- only a day and a half rather than the expected three. Of course, it also didn't happen all at once like I had wanted. We both had needed to take breaks throughout the process, but it still surprised me when it was finished so quickly. She had given me all of the right instructions of how to take care of it and how to make sure it didn't get infected. I had listened intently and paid her afterwards. I remembered I gave her a nice tip for cooperating with my requests. She saw the tip before I could leave and asked me a request of her own. Figured it wouldn't hurt if I complied. It wasn't like anyone from my past would go into a tattoo parlor looking for me. Probably. She asked if she could take a photo of it and hang it up in her shop. She said it was her best work yet, and I couldn't deny her want of showing it off. Now her small shop in that tiny Texas town had a photo hanging up of my tattooed back and damn, did I have the biggest and happiest smile on my face in it too.

Finished reminiscing about the past, I rewrapped the towel around my torso and walked over to the door. I made sure that my back was facing the tub again. Just because I was happy with my tattoo didn't mean I wanted the feds to know about it. They didn't need to have another thing to identify me by.

Knocking on the door, I asked, "Ms. Prentiss?"

"Yeah, kiddo?" was her reply.

"Could I borrow some clothes?" I didn't want to put on my soiled clothes. If I did, I'd just get dirty all over again which would've made the shower pointless.

Someone shuffled on the other side of the door. I waited for an answer. After counting to ten, slowly, in my head with no answer, I twisted the doorknob and slowly pried it open. It was still creaky. But I was met with no one standing in front of the door. Confused, I opened the door further. No one was in sight.

 _Any chance they all left the room?_   Deciding to see if anyone was left on the beds, I walked out of the bathroom, quietly walked down the small hallway to where the beds were, stopped, and pressed myself to the wall before peering around the corner to look at the beds. I imagined that I looked suspicious, but I felt like I was practicing my sneaky ninja skills. I also felt like a badass. _Look at me, I'm pretending to be a cop sneaking around a house to sneak up on the unsub. Just need a gun to complete the image.  
_

The bed closest to the hotel door was still primly made. No one had been on it, then. The other bed, however, had one Derek Morgan lounging on it. His eyes were closed and his breathing was even. _So he's still alive, eh?_ I had no idea why that thought had popped into my mind, much less why it was said in a Dr. Evil voice. Not dwelling on it, I looked to the hotel door. It was about ten feet from my current location. It was possible that I could get to it and be out of the room before waking the agent. My lips pinched together. It was a risky possibility. If I went through with it and was caught, it would only add to the suspicions surrounding me. If I was able to escape, I was still naked. That would only make it that much more easy to locate me. _People always remember seeing naked women running down streets. Especially if the woman was heading towards the hospital._   Thinking about the risks, and especially of how I was still only clad in a towel, I shoved the desire to escape to the back of my head. I relaxed my posture and began walking to the bed by the door. I had almost made it to the area between the bed and the wall when a voice roughly asked what I was doing.

Without skipping a beat, I answered, "Sitting on this comfy bed."

A scoff answered me. I proceeded to sit on the bed just to prove my honesty. The other bed creaked and groaned. I wasn't watching what the fed was doing. Honestly, I didn't care. I had sat down on the end of the bed, but it was rather uncomfortable. Bringing up my legs, I scooted backwards towards the headboard. Once I felt my back touch it, I stopped scooting. Feeling eyes on me, I turned my head towards where I thought the fed was. He wasn't on the bed anymore. With my eyes widening, my head swiveled around until I had found him standing at the end of my bed watching me.

"Eep!" Even though I had been searching for him, it still startled me to find him so near. An eyebrow of his rose. He opened his mouth to say something, but I beat him to it. "You're not going to ask 'Do I afraid you' are you?"

"What?!" was his blurted reply. _Guess he didn't expect that. Or he doesn't know Fifty Shades. Guess he ain't the type to read porn then._ I waited patiently for him to get it. By the way his face was scrunching up, it looked like he had no idea what I was talkin' 'bout.

"Ya never read 'Fifty Shades of Grey'?" I asked him, remembering to have a Southern drawl. Hopefully he didn't pick up on the lack of it before.

At that, he pulled a disgusted face. "You read that crap?"

I shrugged. "It was that or the bible." His eyes shone with disgust. "Vegas hotels are weird," I added as if in explanation.

"You don't strike me as the Vegas type." He challenged.

"I don't strike myself as a lot of types." I countered.

"Like the type to kidnap a federal agent, torture him, then take him to a hospital to further your God-complex?" His gaze bore down into my own.

I refused to raise to that bait. My mouth opened to retort, but the hotel door decided to open at that same moment. _Saved by the door, whoop, whoop!_ In walked beige-and-lilac fed and Prentiss. They weren't expecting to see Morgan so close to the door, but managed to side-step him without bumping into him. It wasn't until Prentiss looked where Morgan was that she noticed me. On the bed. In a towel. With my legs up. The towel wasn't covering my lower parts. _Forgot 'bout that detail. Oops.  
_

"Morgan! What're you doing?!" She nearly screeched. Following her train of thought, my lips stretched into a grin of the shit-eating variety.

"Gee, _Agent_ Morgan, I didn' know ya were the type ta look up women's skirts." I drawled, pleased I could still one-up him.

Morgan spluttered for words while the tops of his cheeks were darkening. Both Prentiss and beige-and-lilac fed had turned around to face Morgan, anger blatant on their faces. Well, beige-and-lilac fed just looked confused. Before anyone turned their gazes back to me, I looked at what was in Prentiss' hands.

"Are those for me?" I gestured to the clothing in the female's hands. She turned away from Morgan and nodded to me.

"Here you go," she practically shoved them into my arms, "how about you go get changed?"

Standing up from the bed with the clothes in hand, I scampered between Prentiss and Morgan. Before passing Morgan completely, I mouthed "I win" and gave him a wink. I brushed past beige-and-lilac fed, giving him a scared look, and rushed into the bathroom. Once in with the door shut, a quiet giggle escaped my lips. Before long, I slid down the door and collapsed into a fit of strangled giggles. I supposed it sounded like I was crying, but I was trying my best to not guffaw. Morgan was in quite the predicament now. All because he tried to bait me into confessing something. _Silly man._ Through the door, I heard things like 'unprofessional', 'scared her', and 'she's crying'. 'How could you' was practically screamed. Granted, things like 'it wasn't what it looked like' and 'being framed' were shouted back. _Seems like the feds are having an argument about what just happened. It looks like Operation 'Annoy them until they release me' is up and running smoothly._ I stood (still giggling quietly) and dressed myself in what appeared to have been quickly bought at a nearby gas station, seeing as how the shirt was an XL with motorcycle brands printed on it and the pants were some loose gypsy capris-things (I wasn't given any underwear, so I was going commando underneath the clothes with some wadded up toilet paper shoved up my lady bits to act as a makeshift tampon). My grin had turned positively feral by the time I was fixing my hair into a messy bun.

 

* * *

 

After having had walked out of the bathroom and effectively "missing" the argument between the feds, I was all ready for a nap. Not bothering to hide my longing looks at the beds, Prentiss noticed right away. She had been observing me since I came out of the bathroom. Morgan and beige-and-lilac fed were both looking anywhere but at me and each other. _I really need to learn his name.  
_

Without missing a beat of my longing gaze, Prentiss piped up. "When's the last time you slept?" Of course, this got the other two feds to look sharply at her.

"Emily, you can't be serious!"

"Who cares?"

Both male feds had spoken at the same time making it difficult to really know which one had said what. Prentiss gave them both a look with an emotion I didn't care to identify. After a short while of staring and non-verbal communication between them, they turned and gazed at me. I was getting the feeling that Prentiss wasn't often seen showing maternal care for some stranger.

Thinking back on the hours led me to the conclusion that it had been two nights (including last night) since I had slept. Not wanting to alarm them on my deprivation, I merely stated with "Yesterday."

"What time yesterday?" Morgan scoffed. Either he didn't like me or he was still angry about our spat earlier. Prentiss shot him another look to which he glared back at her. _Probably still angry about the spat_.

"Does it matter?" I had responded reflexively.

"It does if you were sleeping when Hotch went missing." was his angry reply.

I blinked at him. _Who... or what is a 'hotch'?_ "Eh... what?" _So intelligent self, congrats._   Blinking my thoughts away, I tried to think if I had run into anyone or anything called 'Hotch'. I was coming up blank.

"Don't play dumb! I know you know who he is! And I know you know where he is!" His tone was getting angrier. Reflexively, I stepped back with my hands coming up in the talltale sign of surrender.

 _So Hotch is a guy. Good to know. But I still don't know anything about him... other than Morgan is attached to him and wants him back. Is Hotch Morgan's dog?_ My thoughts weren't helping much in this situation, but there wasn't much I could have done. Morgan had begun to stalk towards me only for me to walk backwards in response. My eyes flicked to Prentiss then to beige-and-lilac fed, but they seemed to want to know if I knew anything, too.

"I'm talking to you," Morgan growled out. _When had he gotten this close?!_ Panicking, I took another step backwards only to stop short when my back hit the wall. Glancing behind me at the wall, I inwardly cursed. _Today was not going well. Really should've pushed that damn fed out the door- wouldda missed having to deal with this fucker._

"Look at me when I'm talking to you." His arms shot out to pin me to the wall with one arm on either side of my head. My eyes quickly found his angry ones.

"W-w-who's H-H-Hotch?" _So much for sounding confident._ He was too close for comfort. My mind had the wild notion of imaging Morgan leaning in for a kiss. I quickly squashed that thought, hoping it had gone unnoticed.

It hadn't. Morgan's eyes were watching mine like a hawk watches its prey. He had seen when my eyes had flickered briefly to his lips and back up. His expression turned jeering and disgust, once again, filled his angry dark eyes.

"Where. Is. Aaron. Hotchner." He had demanded it through clenched teeth. Since Morgan had been so closely watching me, he saw my reaction. Because, at that name, recognition flooded my brain with information.

 _Aaron Hotchner. 30s to 40s. Widow: Ex-wife shot and killed during a case gone wrong. Single father: Son was under 10 years of age. Alpha male. Senior Supervisory Special Agent. Unit chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. Tall: Taller than me. Black hair. Brown eyes. Caucasian._ Another thought occurred to me when I began to recall his facial features from the picture Sam had found of him. _Covered in blood. Slick black matted hair. Prominent straight nose._ "Oh God." It came out breathless.

Morgan's hands left the wall only to bunch themselves into the front of my shirt. "Where. Is-"

A shrill tornado siren cut him off. It went on for a few seconds, stopped, then repeated again. It did this a few more times before stopping completely. The room was quiet for a few minutes before the siren cycle began again. _That's the ringtone I set for unknown numbers. So Morgan did get my phone from my car. Shit._

"Ya gonna get that?" Came tumbling from my mouth. I had meant to say something to not bring attention to it- not that it wasn't already bringing attention to itself.

Being pinned to the wall (more or less) gave me a great view of watching beige-and-lilac fed find the cell phone, flip it open, and answer it. He turned away from me so I didn't get to watch his facial expressions to whatever was being said. I could only pray that it wasn't a Hunter calling to ask for advice on how to deal with some supernatural thing. And I really hoped it wasn't Sam or Dean calling to see if I had been laying low (which would've defeated the purpose of laying low... _Then again didn't I save their numbers? Wait, no, they probably got new phones and new numbers_ ). Not getting much information about the phone call from the fed's body language, I returned my attention to Morgan.

"G-g-g-gonna release me anytime soon? Or can ya n-n-not wait to get a taste?" Puckering my lips at him, I watched his disgust increase. Secretly, that hurt my pride. I wasn't that bad at kissing, and I had just showered so it wasn't like he could be disgusted at how I smelled- unless he hated the shampoo and conditioner the hotel had to offer. As if just noticing he still had his hands bunched in my shirt, he released me as though I was a poisonous snake. Not expecting to be released so quickly, I stumbled back into the wall before losing my footing and sliding down to the floor. Morgan sent a sneer my way.

"John Doe's awake." Beige-and-lilac fed said. His voice was a weird mix of awe and flat. His eyes were narrowed at Morgan and I. "We should go find out what he knows."

Prentiss and Morgan nodded at him. Morgan, already having been next to me, bent down, grabbed my arm, and yanked me to my feet. I was dragged out of the room, to the SUV, and shoved inside. This car ride proved to be different than the last 'cause Prentiss got behind the wheel, beige-and-lilac fed got into the front passenger seat, and Morgan got in right next to me.

"Where'd you find John Doe?" Morgan asked in a slightly calmer voice. I blinked at the change in both his voice and tactic. _If I answer and John Doe does turn out to be Aaron Hotchner, I'm screwed. If John Doe doesn't turn out to be Aaron Hotchner, I'm still screwed 'cause my dirty self earlier and my dirty car don't fit the story I told. Overall, I'm just fucked._ I refused to give an answer.

He and the other two feds asked me other questions about whatever case they were working on. Refusing to speak any further, I gave them no answers. It was a long and quiet (once they realized I wasn't going to answer anything) twenty minute ride to the hospital.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> In truth, I probably will not be continuing this story, but if anyone wants to pick it up and take it to new heights, I ask to be credited in those stories. Any stories that are inspired by this one will be featured at the end of this story.


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